


A Slice of Lemon (a Controlling Chaos timestamp)

by li_izumi



Series: Controlling Chaos [2]
Category: Deadpool (Comics), Spider-Man (Comicverse)
Genre: Deadpool Thought Boxes, Established Peter Parker/Wade Wilson, Established Relationship, Explicit Consent, M/M, Panty Kink, Porn with Feelings, Top Peter Parker/Bottom Wade Wilson, humor and smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-28 17:52:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16728138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/li_izumi/pseuds/li_izumi
Summary: Peter had made reservations, a tightly scheduled plan for the evening, and while he might have included some time for Wade being Wade, that tightly scheduled plan did not include time for sex right now. Wade might be showing off his perfectly thick thighs, but Peter’s will was strong enough to resist. Right up until it wasn't.





	A Slice of Lemon (a Controlling Chaos timestamp)

**Author's Note:**

> A timestamp for my epic, Controlling Chaos. You can read this without reading the main fic, but you'll get more FEELS out of this if you read it after.

Peter hung his coat on the coat hook by the door and slipped out of his dress shoes. For as much as he marveled now that he had dress shoes, and more that he had shoes besides his grubby 8-year-old sneakers, it was always a relief to take his shoes off and stretch out the microscopic barbs on his feet that allowed him to achieve his impossible feats of climbing.

Not that he wouldn’t be putting his shoes back on in a few minutes so they could make their reservation, but it did feel great to let his toes stretch after a long day at work.

Here he was; respectable, legitimate Stark Industries employee by day, and Avengers-affiliated superhero by night.

He dropped his briefcase on the floor by his shoes. Technically, he didn’t need a briefcase--most of his non-superhero work for Mr. Stark remained in his lab and the lab was only a short elevator ride away. The times he left the Tower for his weekly dinners with Aunt May and Wade, his biweekly lunches with Harry and/or Krissi and Evan, his Stark phone was all he needed if something came up. But Wade thought since he had a legitimate job working at Stark Industries, he needed a briefcase, so that was Wade’s ‘congrats on getting a job’ present. Didn’t matter that Peter had no need for it, since Wade had excitedly given it to him, he carried it to and from work with him every day.

“Honey, I’m home,” he called out in a sing-song inflection, because he knew the stupid little catchphrase would make Wade smile, and tonight was all about making Wade smile.

“Oh, baby, I’ve been waiting for you!” Wade called back, his voice getting louder as he came towards the foyer.

Peter’s eyes bulged.

Wade was wearing a string of white pearls around his neck and a small, frilly, pink apron...

...And nothing else.

“So, do you want a bath, supper.... Or me?” Wade asked coyly, running his hand down his side. When he reached the bottom of the apron, he fluttered his fingers in the frilly lace at the hemline.

The apron stretched across his impressively muscular chest in a heart shaped pattern and came down to just past his hips. It barely covered his groin and every time Wade shifted--and he was clearly and deliberately swaying--it rose enough that Peter expected at any moment to be flashed with his dick.

Throat dry, Peter rasped out, “You’ve been watching bad anime all day again, haven’t you?”

“I take exception to the fact you think I was watching _bad_ anime. _My maid is my wife_ is a _classic_.”

“Can’t be that much of a classic if I’ve never heard of it,” Peter muttered.

“Classic within certain specialty fan circles,” Wade capitulated.

“I don’t want to know what circles those are; I’m feeling dirty just talking about this.”

“So you want to start with a bath, then. Want me to scrub your back?”

And probably every other part of him, with particular interest to his bathing suit region, Peter was sure. None of which really need bathing right now. What Peter needed was to scrub his mind because right now it was _rolling_ in the gutter. He couldn’t keep his eyes from drifting back down to look at the edge of Wade’s apron, even as he tried to maintain eye contact with him. It was torture, and Wade, the jerk, knew exactly what he was doing. Peter had to stay strong.

“A bath would be wonderful, except for the fact that we don’t _have_ a bath. We have a shower larger than my last apartment, with gentle rainfall showerheads and massaging side sprays, and while the sink could theoretically fit me if I scrunched myself up small, we do not, in fact, have a bath.”

“You know if you said something to your boss, we’d have a bath installed in this place tomorrow. He likes you. Well, not _likes_ likes you. Since he’s with Ms. Potts. Or Captain America if you’re a Stony shipper, like me. There are some ‘science bros’ shippers, but I’ve always liked them as friends more than lovers. And there should be more Rhody/Tony fics but there’s a definite subtle racism problem in fandom--”

“I’m not telling Mr. Stark that we need a bathtub because my boyfriend wants bath sex,” Peter cut in, because when Wade started getting into ‘shipping’ he lost Peter completely.

“Well you don’t tell him _that_ part. Just that you want a bath.”

“And what other reason would I want a bath? We might be ‘provisional members’, but we’ve got access to the Avengers’ training rooms, which includes not only a room with the latest workout equipment, indoor track, an Olympic regulation-sized swimming pool, but also relaxation perks like a sauna, steam room, and, not to be forgotten amongst all the rest, a _Jacuzzi hot tub_. So it would be pretty clear if I requested a tub for our apartment that it’s because my boyfriend has watched too much bad anime and wants bathtub sex.”

“Fine, if you put it like _that_ , you lose, no bath for you. Now your only choice is supper or me, and the way you shot down the bath...” Wade pouted.

Wade’s attempts at seduction might be a tad cheesy and weebo, but it was clearly an attempt at seduction. It was a good skin day for Wade. His skin was still quite rough and bumpy--it always was, and Wade was sensitive enough about that--but when his skin was flaking, peeling, or he had open sores, times when he felt particularly uncomfortable, or--to his mind--exceptional unattractive, Wade tended to shy away from sight. Those days he wore his mask even when he was alone with Peter in their apartment.

But on good skin days, Wade tended to feel particularly amorous. On good skin days, he wanted to show off. He wanted to touch and be touched.

In short, he wanted sex.

Most days, Peter was more than happy to accommodate, but tonight was not most days. Peter had made reservations, a tightly scheduled plan for the evening, and while he might have included some time for Wade being Wade, that tightly scheduled plan did not include time for sex right now. Wade might be showing off his perfectly thick thighs, but Peter’s will was strong enough to resist.

That will to resist vanished like his breath when Wade turned to walk back down the hall and underneath the precisely formed bow of the apron was a flash of black fabric running down between his pert butt cheeks.

Wade was wearing a thong. A black, silky thong. A thong that would be cupping Wade’s balls and dick in its silky caress.

Will save completely botched, Peter needed his hands on Wade like _yesterday_.

Wade had taken only a half-step before Peter grabbed him by the arm and shoved him against the wall.

“Hey--!” Wade’s attempt at complaint was silenced as Peter threw himself upwards to bring their lips together into a fierce kiss.

Peter thrust his tongue in, claiming Wade with the epitome of ‘if I licked it, it’s mine’. And while he might be starting with the mouth, Peter had plans to claim every _inch_ of Wade by the time the night was over.

He smashed up tight against Wade’s body. His dick, already perked up by the sight of Wade in only an apron and thong, thickened as he rubbed against Wade’s bare thighs.

Wade shifted his leg to give Peter more leverage to rut against. His tongue slid along Peter’s, Wade returning the kiss with equal enthusiasm, as he pawed at Peter’s shirt to untuck it so he could run his hands up Peter’s bare back.

With his feet sticking to the wall to hold himself up, Peter’s hands were free to roam and explore Wade’s body. He ran them down Wade’s side, feeling the soft and smooth cotton of his apron, following down the crisp seams to the lacy trim at the bottom. Reaching through the folds, he brought his hands up along the globes of Wade’s ass and drew his fingers to trace the silky lines of the thong. _Fuck_ , he really was wearing a thong!

“Damn it, Wade,” Peter muttered when he could pull himself momentarily away from Wade. “We were supposed to go out tonight.”

“We can still go out later.”

“Not bloody likely now,” Peter muttered as he resumed their kiss with a desperate need. It was ridiculous how much he wanted this man…!

He reached down to Wade’s ass, not stopping for a grope, but positioning his hands so he could lift Wade up to carry him. Wade immediately caught on and wrapped his legs around his waist. If Peter didn’t move them now, they’d be desperately getting off on the hardwood floor, and yeah that was hot--incredibly hot--but Peter’s back was still achy from their last Avengers mission, and future him was going to curse current him if he didn’t take the few moments to move them to their bed.

With Wade glomped onto his chest like an oversized koala bear, Peter carried him across their apartment to their bedroom. Peter probably should have scooped Wade’s legs out from under him--Wade had a preference for ‘bridal carry across the threshold’--but this way was quicker. Besides, Wade got all fluttery pretty much anytime Peter picked him up and manhandled him, so the exact position of carry didn’t matter so much.

Once he reached the bed, Peter set Wade down. As he slid onto Wade’s lap, Peter loosened his tie, dragging the knot until it came undone and the tie fell out of his hands. He kept his gaze focused on Wade, and he could feel the effect as Wade noticeably hardened under him.

And as much as Peter enjoyed feeling how much he turned Wade on, it was still Wade’s dick touching his ass and even with a couple layers of fabric between them, that still made Peter anxious. Anything that made him think about penetrative sex got him nervous.

Peter lifted himself off Wade, using his new position to push Wade down so his back was flat on the bed. Wade’s dick had to be _straining_ against the confines of his silk underwear. Peter shifted the folds of Wade’s apron to reveal its prize.

Peter closed his eyes and groaned. Wade’s dick, fully erect and pushing against the thin, see-through fabric. The sight was even better than he’d imagined.

Wade shifted under him, leading Peter to reopen his eyes. Wade met his gaze with a smirk.

“Looks like someone has a bit of a panty kink.”

“Oh shut up,” Peter grumbled and proceeded to shut Wade up by kissing him.

Pushing Wade back down, Peter brought his leg between Wade’s, dipping his hip so he could grind it against Wade in the way Peter knew made him weak in the knees. Wade moaned into the kiss.

They were at it for a while, long enough for Wade to mostly strip Peter out of his clothes without Peter realizing it until he felt his pants and boxers down at his ankles.

“I appear to be naked,” he noted, kicking the last pant leg off his foot.

“Yes, that does appear to be the case. How did that happen?”

“I have no clue.”

“Must be the magic clothing-removal fairies.”

“Must be.” Peter smiled back into kissing Wade.

“I noticed the magic clothes removing fairy hasn’t touched me,” Wade broke the kiss to say.

“Are you complaining that you’re not being touched enough?” Peter ran his hand down Wade’s dick, thrilling at the feel of the silk under his fingertips.

Wade gasped and arched his back, thrusting his hips into Peter’s grip. “N-no! Not enough! I need more! Touch me more!”

Wade was burning, desperate and hot, rubbing his silky dick against Peter.

Peter groaned. “Man do I wanna fuck you.”

“Ooooh, yeah. I wanna be fucked by you!”

Peter pulled back. “Wait, what?”

“You wanna fuck me?” Wade repeated questioningly, leaning up onto his elbows as he followed Peter up. “Wasn’t that what you just said?”

“I was mostly just saying stuff. Like dirty talk. I didn’t think…”

“So you don’t want…?”

It wasn’t a matter of what Peter _wanted_ … “I didn’t think _you_ wanted…”

“Sex? I greeted you at the door in an apron and panties, of course I wanted sex,” Wade said and then seemed to think better of it. “I mean, whatever kind of sex you want. Like frottage sex. Or hand job sex. I didn’t mean it had to be penetrative sex,” he was quick to assure.

In the time they’d been together and living in the Avengers tower, they’d had many intimate escapades, but Peter still had anxiety about anything going up his butt. He knew it was a symptom of his internalized homophobia, but living almost his entire life thinking he was straight as can be, and hearing Harry and his jerk father making all those disparaging comments about gay men for the last decade, well, it was going to take more time to fully come to terms with his sexuality and overcome his issues.

Wade kept saying he was happy with anything they did, as long as Peter was happy. Peter _was_ happy with what they were doing with the hand jobs and frottage and, heck, he was even getting quite good at blow jobs now. But he worried that Wade was annoyed with his reluctance for the penetrative types of sex.

...It had never occurred to Peter that Wade might be willing to be the one penetrated.

“But you’re bigger!” Peter blurted out.

Wade’s eyes shot up and he barely stifled his giggle.

Peter rolled his eyes. “I meant your size.”

Another snort of laughter.

“Oh for heaven’s sake, I meant your height! But yeah, that too, okay?! You’re bigger, and you’re older, and I thought the bigger guy was always the one on top--”

“Okay, see, now _you’re_ the one who's been watching too much bad anime. Because the whole ‘bigger/older’ guy is always the _seme_ and the effeminate little guy is the _uke_ thing is really reductive and bad trope-y.”

“So you want to be on the bottom--”

“And really what’s with all this shipping nonsense that a guy can only be one or the other? Like, with Dean and Cas, I lean a bit more to Cas being the top, particularly since Dean can be so very _subby_ , but that’s just mixing Top/Bottom with Dom/Sub, when that’s not the same thing, and the Top/Bottom discourse can get as bad as the whole _seme_ and _uke_ thing, grossly fetishizing, so I guess I’ve totally become a fan of Team Switch, because why limit things…”

There he was, off on one of his shipping tangents again.

Peter sighed. “Wade, I don’t even know what you’re talking about anymore.”

“Only the greatest slow burn epic romance story ever told! ...Or the greatest queerbait to ever bait. Until the show ends, if it ever does, it’s kind of Schrödinger’s queerbait. And this queer is definitely baited--”

“Wade! Can we get back to the earlier conversation? With you. And me. And sex. Between us. And if that’s what we’re considering for tonight, how we might want that to go down.”

“Go down,” Wade repeated with a sophomoric giggle.

“Yeah, about that sex we’re _never_ having again. Ever.”

**********************

**Shit balls fuck, we were about to have sex before you had to open your damn mouth and ruin it all!**

“You’re a fine one to talk,” Deadpool muttered.

“Excuse me?!”

“Not you,” Deadpool told him.

Peter did that mildly frowny face he made when he realized Deadpool was arguing with the voices in his head. Peter tried to be pretty understanding about the whole ‘voices in head’ thing, but he didn’t like how negative Yellow and White could be.

“You were the one who called a timeout on our sexy fun times,” Wade noted, a touch petulantly.

“Because if we’re doing something new we should talk about it first.”

“Are we?”

“Are we what?”

“Doing something new?”

“Not if you can’t talk to me about it for a minute.”

“We have been talking!”

_Can we be serious for even one fucking minute?!_

“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” Deadpool apologized.

Peter closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and slowly exhaled, releasing the tension from his shoulders. “Alright, Wade. Talk to me.”

Yeah okay, it was time to put on his big boy panties and come clean.

In a small voice he admitted, “I’m usually the one on the bottom, okay?”

**Usually? Try always.**

Deadpool’s usual type for guys was big and beefy; guys who could manhandle him and take what they needed, and Deadpool was so desperate for touch that he gave it all willingly.

**And no question about who was on top in your last relationship.**

“Not just when we were with him,” he said.

 _Him?_ “Him?”

 **We don’t talk about him!** “We don’t talk about him!”

Peter winced, his arms up placating. “Okay, I’m sorry. I won’t ask about ‘him’.”

**Moving on.**

“Even when I’m with gals… and I’m usually with gals…”

**We like gals.**

“We like boobs,” Deadpool corrected.

“I know you do.”

“I like you better than boobs.” He didn’t want to give Peter the wrong idea.

Peter smiled, that really beautiful smile, the one where he was genuinely touched _and_ amused by something Deadpool had said. “I know that, too.”

“And you know I’m happy just being with you? That it doesn’t matter what kind of sex we have, if we even have sex?”

**But… sex!**

_We all know that if Peter didn’t want sex anymore and just wanted to sit on the couch holding hands we’d still be over the moon because we’d be holding Peter’s hand._

**Yeah, okay.**

“I know. And I appreciate that, Wade. But I _want_ to have sex with you--”

“Yeah, you said something along the lines of ‘I want to fuck you’,” Deadpool supplied hopefully.

Peter chuckled. “You know, I think I did say something along those lines. I also think you responded something like, ‘I want to be fucked by you’? ‘Cause I gotta say, that plan might have surprised me at first, but that doesn’t mean I’m not interested. Because I am.”

“Why, Petey, do you want to have sex with me?”

“I said I do--”

“You want penetrative anal sex? With me? You want to be on top, me on the bottom? You pitching, me receiving?” Wade asked, both because he knew dirty talk would rile Peter up, as well as confirming with words that was what Peter wanted.

Peter blushed lightly, but his eyes were shiny with his eagerness. “Yeah--”

Deadpool smirked as he leaned backwards to lower his back down to the mattress, pulling Peter down with him. “You want to really fuck me? Do you want to pound me into the mattress?”

Peter frowned. “I want to have _sex_ with you--”

**Fuck, you _know_ he doesn’t like causing pain.**

_Or anything that hints that it would cause you pain_.

To get them back on the right track, Deadpool quickly amended, “You want to fuck me in my panties? You want them soaking with my come?”

That got Peter groaning with desire.

Deadpool grinned. “You _do_ have a panty kink!”

“I do, alright! I want all that.” He leaned his forehead against Deadpool’s and questioned, “Do you?”

In response, Deadpool smirked into a kiss.

**Getting back into the mood with a little bumping, grinding make-out session.**

That and using their movements to roll them around the bed from the foot to the head where a certain necessary item could be found in the bedside table drawer. He lost his apron in the process, but it had served its purpose, and Peter was enthralled enough with the novelty of rubbing up against his panties that Deadpool didn’t mind its loss.

Deadpool fumbled blindly at the drawer to sift through the items inside it. At last his hands closed onto the tube and he broke their kiss to triumphantly reveal his prize.

The lube they had on hand was for just that… _hand_ jobs, and he’d make sure they would have the thicker sort meant for anal if Peter ever wanted to swap positions, but Deadpool wasn’t particular and it would do in a pinch.

**There’s no way we’re gonna stop to run out to get more lube now that Peter is finally a go with the whole sex thing.**

_We’ve interrupted it way too much already._

Deadpool wouldn’t have minded if Peter just wanted to slick himself up and stick it in, but Peter really didn’t like causing pain and he didn’t trust Deadpool’s judgement on what ‘it’s fine, go ahead’ was. Taking the little bit of guidance from Deadpool on what to do, Peter went above and beyond those instructions as he fastidiously work his fingers in, around the strap of Deadpool’s panties, and methodically opened him up.

It had been a long while since he’d had anyone do this to him, and he’d never had anyone do it with as much care and tenderness. As Peter finger-fucked him open, he lay kisses on Deadpool’s inner thighs and nuzzled his face against Deadpool’s panty-covered dick.

Deadpool was so used to ‘hard and fast’ that ‘gentle and slow’ had him hard and leaking and desperate for release well before Peter finally lined himself up against his ass.

“Peter, baby, come on already,” Deadpool urged.

_‘Complained’ is the more apt description._

Despite his urgings--

**Complaints.**

\--Peter started with gentle rocking motions, slowly working himself in. Wade let his head lull back, riding the waves of pleasure as Peter found his rhythm. His fingers dug into Deadpool’s hips as Peter gripped him tighter. The pressure bordered on pain, and Deadpool moaned and arched his back.

Peter shifted, and, probably to get a better angle, lifted Wade off the bed and onto his lap. Wade squawked from the unexpected change of positions, from missionary to cowboy. He certainly wasn’t complaining about being manhandled, because _fuck_ was it hot how strong Peter was, but going from prone to sitting in seconds had his head spinning. To prevent himself from losing balance, crashing to the floor, and possibly breaking Peter’s dick in the process, Wade clung to his chest in an echo of the way Peter had carried him into the bedroom earlier.

Between how ready to burst he’d been with Peter’s inadvertent edging, to this impressive display of Peter’s strength, one more direct thrust to his prostate and Deadpool was done. He came in a burst, soaking his panties, and slumped limply in Peter’s arms while Peter kept going.

**Fucking hell the stamina of youth!**

Fuck. He was getting the hottest sex he’d had in in a very long time by the hottest, sweetest, hero-est guy ever. He might not have any clue why Peter wanted anything to do with him, but he knew one thing for certain...

“I fucking love you.”

Peter’s eyes widened in surprise before his expression blissed out as he came.

Shaky from the exertion, he slid himself and Deadpool back down to the bed.

“I know…it was… the serotonin talking…” Peter gasped between gulps of air. “But I... love you, too.”

Deadpool smiled as he and Peter settled under the covers for a post-sex cuddle. “It was the serotonin, and Yellow and White, and me. We’re all saying it. I really, honestly, deeply love you, Peter.”

Peter’s face lit up.

“Hey, Petey, give us a kiss.”

And Peter did.

 

**Author's Note:**

> That's it, Controlling Chaos is now a wrap! While it's possible I'll write more of these boys sometime in the future, for now I've got no immediate plans. Thank you all for sticking with me!
> 
> Do check out my [Tumblr](http://li-izumi.tumblr.com/) for more of my writing and my random fandom interests.


End file.
